Plan B
by Wingtip
Summary: What's the protocol for finding out that the CMO of the Enterprise, the ship you're serving on for the next five years, is the same guy you just had a one-night-stand with, and who may have impregnated you? Or did no one at Starfleet think guidelines for that would be needed? Bones/OC. Ensemble piece.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek

**Title:** Plan B

**Summary:** What's the protocol for finding out that the CMO of the Enterprise, the ship you're serving on for the next five years, is the same guy you just had a one-night-stand with, and who may have impregnated you? Or did no one at Starfleet think guidelines for that would be needed?

**Rating/Warnings:** T, _possibly_ M later on, for language, drinking, and behavior of a sexual nature.

**Notes: **This is my first Star Trek fic, so reviews are appreciated!

** Chapter One**

It wasn't until she was halfway through her second drink that Clara saw the man two seats down. He was nursing a bourbon, wearing a dark jacket, and looking like he kind of wanted to murder everyone in the noisy bar. Clara thought he had a nice jaw.

Now, she had come to this bar with very specific intentions. She was leaving the planet for five years the next day, and that meant risking a five-year dry spell, so she was going to try to get some on her last night on Earth. Unfortunately, the bar she had picked was full of guys who were about as far from her type as possible. They were all to reminiscent of her ex, who she had dated for seven miserable years, or they were to buff, or too loud and cocky. She had figured that on the eve of a historic launch, _every_ bar would be filled with a nice mix, but apparently not this one.

The man two seats down, on the other hand, wasn't any of those things. Sure, he looked a bit grumpy, and wasn't paying attention to anything around him, but at least he wasn't calling out for more shots for all of his friends, or trying to shove his pelvis into anyone's butt and calling it "dancing".

Looking more closely, Clara noticed he was pretty good-looking, in that I-fix-my-own-car-but-still-read-Shakespeare kind of way. Judging by his expression, he wasn't there to socialize, which meant he was probably there to just drink. That probably said something about him, but by that point Clara was a bit to tipsy to care.

As if her felt her eyes on her, he suddenly looked up, and their eyes met. Clara, blushing, looked down to her drink before she could see his expression. God, what was _wrong_ with her? She may have been a bit new to the dating scene, but that was no reason to act like an idiot schoolgirl with a crush!

She forced herself to look up again. The man two seats down was till looking at her, so she smiled and hoped it looked pretty, and not as stupid as she felt. He didn't smile in return, but he did nod at her and he wasn't giving her the same glare the other bar patrons had earned. But he didn't say anything until her glass was almost empty.

"Her next one's on me," he told the bartender, nodding his head in her general direction. Thankfully, most people at the establishment were on the dance floor, so there was no mistaking who he was buying a drink for. Still, he didn't sound very enthused about it. Weren't men supposed to be happy about the girl's they were trying to get with?

"Thanks," Clara said, smiling again.

"Sure thing," he muttered in response, taking another sip of his bourbon.

Clara paused. She thought _women_ were normally the ones to give out mixed signals. Had he just bought that drink to be polite? Or was he just shy? Somehow, he didn't seem like the shy type, but still.

"I'm Clara," she offered, biting her lip. Well, if she had to instigate the conversation, she could do that. This wasn't the twentieth century, for goodness sake. She was a strong, independent woman. She could talk to a man.

"Leonard."

It was just that maybe this man didn't want to talk to her.

She turned back to her newly gotten drink, wishing she had just gone clubbing with Janice or Carol. They would have found her some decent man and then abandoned her. Only of course, she had insisted she couldn't dance to save her life, and all of her other friends were traveling in packs of dozens, so she had gone alone to a bar where the only decent guy had no interest in her. Oh, the joys of her life.

Another man walked up to _Leonard_, this one typically handsome and oddly familiar, but sporting a red mark on his cheek that was distinctly hand-shaped. He seemed unfazed, however, and pointed off to a girl in a tight dress as he explained something in a hushed voice. She lost track of the conversation then, and looked back at her glass. The two mens' voices got a bit louder, but Clara stopped paying attention until the new man called to her. Sot of.

"Hey, Claire!"

Clara looked up, perplexed, as Leonard muttered her actual name under his breath. His friend didn't seem to be paying attention, however. Speaking of the friend; she was _sure_ she knew him from somewhere. Her alcohol-riddled mind, however, was refusing to pinpoint who he was.

"I'm about to leave this fine establishment with a lovely woman over there-" he pointed to the tight-dresses girl, "And that means I won't be able to look after my good friend here." he slapped his _good friend_ on the back. Said _good friend_ looked like he wanted to commit a murder-suicide. "So I was hoping you would be kind enough to keep him company for me, and, _you know_, make sure he gets home okay."

Clara was speechless. She just sat there for a long moment, gaping like a fish, before her brain managed to form a half-normal response.

"I don't see why not," she said a bit weekly, her eyes still wide.

"Thanks, you're a doll."

And with that, he turned on his heel and left with Tight-Dress. Following his departure were several moments of uncomfortable, stunned silence.

"Sorry about that," Leonard finally said, "He lacks boundaries."

"It's completely fine," she responded. _For goodness sake, woman! This is a golden opportunity!_ That voice sounded oddly like Janice's, and Clara found it in her to keep talking. "I know what it's like to have... _exuberant _friends."

"Oh?" he looked mildly interested in that, so she pressed on.

"Yeah, and they all seem to think I should live my life as they do- topless and on tabletops." That got a laugh.

"He's much the same; only the situations he gets me in to tend to be a bit more deadly."

"How so?" He gave her a look that said she clearly did not want to know. "Never mind."

"If I had a penny for every time he almost got me killed..." he shook his head.

"You must be in a dangerous line of work."

"You have no idea," he muttered.

"Let me guess- Starfleet?"

He nodded.

"The ironic part is, I hate space," he admitted, "every corner of the universe has something in it waiting to kill you."

"But I'm guessing you love whatever it is you _do_ in space enough to make up for that."

He agreed with that, but oddly didn't seem to happy about it. He didn't seem like a very _happy_ sort of person.

A group stumbled up to the bar then, a bit to close to Leonard for his liking, and he moved over two spots. He was right next to her now. She could feel heat radiating off him. It was distracting.

"How about you?"

"Hm?"

"What do you do?"

"Oh- I'm in Starfleet as well, but nothing exiting. Just a Yeoman. Mostly insurance."

"Do you _enjoy_ that?" he looked like the thought of even talking about insurance made him want to vomit. It wasn't that unusual of a reaction.

"It's okay." she shrugged, "you find out the most interesting things about alien STDs. And the people who wind up with them."

He choked a bit on his liquor before speaking.

"_That's_ the okay part?"

"Yeah. Makes sleeping with humans that much less worrying."

The minute she realized what she had said, she blushed and looked down. He didn't look to comfortable with that comment either, but he didn't walk away in disgust, at least.

"I mean," she added, or more accurately, the alcohol in her system added, "So long as it's properly protected, and-"

The people beside them let out a shriek of laughter as some comment, and that seemed to prompt the man beside her to make a decision. His face determined, he asked,

"How about we continue this discussion at my place?"

Clara's eyes widened.

"Really? I mean-" she took a breath to clear her head, "Sure. I _did_ say I'd make sure you got home okay..." and with that, she accepted his outstretched hand.

* * *

Of the many things in life Clara was grateful for, rooming with Janice Rand was one of them.

They had been friends since their first year of typing class, and ere both Yeomen second-class. But Janice had a way of thinking of everything (one of the reasons she was the captains personal Yeoman), including extra pillows and bed-skirts and other ways to make their room nice and comfortable.

"Seriously though, I love you," Clara said, as the blonde revealed a box of secret chocolates (the fancy, expensive kind you couldn't get in space), each coded for a different occasion.

"My father gave them to me. Thank him." she hid the box in a small drawer, beneath a few of their red uniforms. The two had, I typical bureaucrat fashion, arrived early to pack. Yeoman were on duty a bit before regular crew man, since they would spend the hours before the launch running around like madwomen, directing other Yeomen on what PADD needed to be where and who needed to sign what, as well as running errands themselves. If they wanted to set up, they had to do it now.

"So you spent last night with your family?" Clara asked, pulling a uniform from the drawer. It was cute; short skirt, but long sleeves, and black boots.

"Yeah, they're struggling with this whole gone-for-years thing. How about you?"

"I went to breakfast with my parents. They're taking it well, considering."

Clara by then was getting dressed, so she didn't see Janice's expression, and did not anticipate her next question.

"Just breakfast? Where were you last night?"

"Oh, you know, I went to a bar."

"Alone?"

Clara straightened her skirt and stepped into her boots before answering.

"Only for the first part of the night." she admitted with a sheepish smile.

"Are you saying that _you_ spent the night with someone?" Janice looked both amazed and approving.

"Yep."

"Not Joe, Right?"

"Not Joe."

Janice was, for once in her life, truly speechless.

So Clara retold the events of the previous night. She tried to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, telling it while braiding her bangs away from her face, acting like it wasn't a big deal, but her insides were dancing. Being confined to a seven-year relationship until six months ago had left her a bit giddy about every new experience, and this was a major milestone.

"Well, I must say, I am extremely proud." Janice grinned, "This bodes well for the future!"

Clara was about to respond, but there was a chime from the door.

"Come in!" both her and Janice called.

The door opened and in stepped their boss, Yeoman first-class Clarke, holding a stack of PADDs.

"Ah, girls, I'm glad at least _two_ of my Yeomen are ready."

"The newbies giving you trouble, ma'am?" Janice asked.

"If it were only _just_ the newbies." she shook her head, "Yeoman Matisse," she turned to Clara, "deliver these to sickbay- give them _directly_ to the CMO and make sure he understands the concept of the new preëxisting condition policy. Yeoman Rand, Go check in with the captain."

"Yes, Ma'am," they echoed, and Clara took the PADDs.

Thankfully, she had studied a map of the ship before, so she only took one wrong turn and, after making a quick note of it so she wouldn't be fooled again, was on the right track.

Sickbay wasn't bustling with too much activity. There were a few nurses and doctors with hyposprays, treating patients with allergies or nerves or other conditions that required medication on a regular basis, but not too much else. She found a pretty, blonde nurse who kindly told her where to find the CMO, thanked her, and then went in the direction she was pointed in.

The doctor had his back to her, and was grumbling at a patient who looked decidedly terrified, and was probably regretting ever asking for treatment at all.

Clara cleared her throat.

"I'm here to drop off some important files with the CMO?"

"One _second_," he snapped, then finished whatever he was doing to the poor crewman and sent him on his way rather rudely. He began clearing away his equipment, still ignoring her, but Clara cleared her throat as loudly as she could.

"I was told to give these _directly_ to you."

The CMO- doctor McCoy, if she remembered correctly from the health insurance papers, stiffened then, before turning very slowly.

When he finally faced her, she felt her stomach drop, and her hold on the PADDs tightened.

"Oh." she said, staring at the face of a man she had last seen that morning. "Hi."

He had only one word to say to that.

"Shit."

* * *

Please review! I cherish every opinion given!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek

**Notes:** Thank you so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I appreciated all of them! My one request is that if you added this story to your favorites/alerts, you also leave a review. It really does mean a lot to me and I hugely appreciate it.

**Chapter Two**

To say the following moments were awkward and uncomfortable would be to massively understate things. Clara handed him the PADDs, and rambled about something to do with preëxisting conditions, and then stood there, waiting for him to say or do _anything_. He hadn't broken eye contact since they first say each-other, and still had that look on his face, like the world had ended.

"Look, Clara..." he seemed at a loss for words. Clara couldn't blame him.

"Yeoman Matisse," she corrected. "Let's start with professional titles."

"Yeah. Okay."

They stood there, and it crossed Clara's mind that the expression on his face would have been comedic, were she not positive her own face had a similar look of shock and _oh, crap_.

"Okay," Clara finally said, wishing she had never left home the previous night. "We had sex once. Well, twice. Three times if you count- we spent one night together." she took a deep breath, and made a point t ignore Dr. McCoy's raised eyebrow, before continuing, "We're both professionals, however, and it was before we were on duty, and we work in two different areas of the ship. There's no reason this should affect us in any way, shape, or form." she had said this all very quickly and in one breath, and now waited for an answer. She wasn't sure what she wanted to hear.

"Right. Exactly."

"So, um, yeah. uh- bout the PADDs, they're insurance, so if you have any questions just contact the department."

"Will do. Now, if you'd excuse me, I have patients." He brushed past her rather rudely then, reminding her of his behavior with the crewman from before and his attitude the night earlier. Of course, it was justified now, but it still made Clara cringe a little.

As she walked back to her room, she thought about the previous night in great detail. The friend- _oh, crap_. His friend who left with Tight-Dress had looked so familiar because _he was the captain of the ship_. The captain had _actively encouraged his CMO to bone a Yeoman_. Of course, it was off duty, so it didn't count, but still. It made her feel a little sketchy. Besides, she was sure he had been tipsy enough that he wouldn't recognize her.

Janice was gone when she got back to her room, and this gave her the opportunity to digest everything.

On paper, it wasn't a big deal; two crewman, unfamiliar with each-other, had casual sex while off-duty. No breach of protocol or policy. But for Clara, it was different. She had been dating Joe since she was eighteen, and before that had one boyfriend. She had, prior to Leonard- _Doctor McCoy-_ only slept with two men, and both of those had been long-term relationships. She wasn't a prude, but she had never had a one-night-stand and she suddenly understood why. You never knew who or _what_ they could end up being.

In a moment of panic, Clara tried to remember if they'd used protection. She couldn't remember. _Crap, crap, crap_. Of curse, I wasn't the sort of thing she could just run to Sickbay and ask about. Just _looking_ at the guy made her feel like a teenager caught making out behind the bleachers. She tried to think- she hadn't gotten a Preventative Treatment for three months since before she broke up with Joe- they were only _guaranteed_ for seven months, and it had already been nine, but the effects of Treatment were known to last for up to ten months in average cases. Besides, for all she knew he had Treatment or had used external protection*. She was being silly.

_But if I'm not..._

Her hand instinctively went to her stomach, even though she _knew_ there was no way to tell like that. _If_ there was a child, she would be able to tell in fourteen days depending on whether or nor her period came, and she could get a test then. Until then, she wouldn't drink or do anything particularly stupid, and then she would discreetly ask a nurse, just to be safe, have her worries shot down, and go on her merry way, laughing at the stupidity of it all.

She didn't even want to consider the other possibility.

Clara laid back on her bed, sinking into the comfortable sheets and pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Right now she needed to focus on the problem at hand.

She had _liked_ Leonard, the gruff but ultimately passionate (and yes, she could attest to that) man who had, albeit reluctantly at first, taken her home. He was rough around the edges, but he had proven himself a gentleman, and one _very_ caring of her pleasure and enjoyment, which was more than what she could say for some other men. And it was probably her own fault, but she had, since that morning, built him up to be fuel for her fantasies for the next five years. Running into him here, forcing to come face-to-face with the fact that he was a real person, with real and obvious flaws, made her dreams of him just feel perverted and awkward, and kind of embarrassing.

In the weirdest way, she felt as if she had been this huge whore, and like everyone in the ship was gossiping about her, even though she _knew_ he was less likely to talk about it than she was. Chances were, no one would ever even know. Still, that didn't change the way she felt.

She looked up at the clock; in ten minutes, she was on duty. She would normally have to sit in a cramped office all day, if not for the fact that she was working directly for the Alpha shift. While she _did_ specialize in insurance, most of that paperwork had already been done, and she doubted they would need to do anything more for a while (despite his reputation, she doubted Kirk would cause any harm to the ship for at least a month). This meant she would mostly work as a _runner_, a term given to yeomen who were being useless and basically just sent to deliver PADDs and get lunches and twiddle their thumbs. It also meant she would get to spend a lot of time on the bridge.

She reported to Yeoman Clark's office exactly on time to be handed a stack of folders and two PADDs. The folders each had a sticky-tab indicating which sector needed them, and a note on whose signature they needed. The PADDs both needed to be looked over by the chief communications officer. Clara started with those.

Lieutenant Uhura was obnoxiously pretty. And smart. And too pleasant to be around to even be properly jealous of.

"This one has an error- can you give it to Ensign Lewis to look over?" she asked, pointing to a spot on the glass screen, "These aren't actually the approved protocol for using the UT."

"I'll get it to him."

"Thanks. And make sure he knows to get it re approved by the captain."

Clara did this, and then looked at the folders; there were a depressing amount, each labeled with a different sector. Running them to people at least gave Clara a chance to familiarize herself with the ship and it's occupants. She learned, for instance, that the first officer was terrifying in a very weird way. And that the pilot and navigator were really nice guys. And that the chief engineer was interesting, if nothing else.

And, much to her chagrin, she learned that the captain did, in fact, recognize her.

"No way," he said when he saw her in his office, exchanging a quick word with Janice as she handed off a paper, "Does Bones know?" he looked way to pleased about this. Like a kid on Christmas.

"Bones?"

"You know who; if anything, _you_ know his bones better than-"

"Yes, he know."

She rounded on Janice Quickly, handing her the papers.

"I'll take care of these, captain," Janice said, but she gave Clara a look that _clearly_ said she was explaining later.

Clara wanted to die. The captain didn't look like the kind of guy who was great at keeping his trap shut, and while she doubted he would do anything to humiliate his friend, there was a high chance the senior crew would soon know, and that he would take great joy in this. Being on the Alpha shift was suddenly looking a lot less appealing.

* * *

The next two weeks passed as quickly and slowly as Clara had hoped on feared.

On the good end of things, she quickly befriended not only some yeomen, but a few ensigns and even the to sweet head-nurse (who she never visited in sickbay). Meals and work were fun and more laid back than she'd ever seen. While some of the bridge crew were a bit intimidating, most were pleasant and fun to be around and she was beginning to have a budding friendship with Sulu, Chekov, and even Uhura, though _budding_ was the key word; they were still her superiors. She got a good workout, traipsing up and down the ship to deliver PADDs and papers, and she was never lonely or bored because she ship had great people and great entertainment.

On the not-so-good end of things, entirely avoiding the CMO was impossible. He was often up on the bridge, and there were times she wasn't able to perfectly time her errands to those moments, as well as times she couldn't get out of running down to sickbay when he was there. Things weren't _awkward_, per say, but only because they made a point of ignoring each other. Whenever he was within a few feet of her, she still got nervous and panicked.

It didn't help that the captain and Janice (the captain had been impressively tight-lipped) enjoyed dropping snarky comments her way and found the whole thing hilarious.

"He's just having fin with it because you react to what he says," Janice told her one night when she complained to her about _another_ suggestive _bone_ pun. "It's probably a sign he likes you."

"And what's _your_ excuse?"

"It' definitely a sign I like you."

Clara was soon so caught up with her new friends, new job, and new way of avoiding sickbay, she didn't actually think about her period until two days after it was meant to show up.

She was at a scheduling meeting with Yeoman Clark and some other Yeomen second-class, when she suddenly thought about the dates. They seemed very near to her, and she found herself thinking about how her period should come soon. It wasn't until she got back to her room that it hit her- _it hadn't come yet_.

She checked and checked her calendar about twelve times, recalculated the time that had passed since last month, and even went back and calculated her cycle for the past year. But it was to no avail. She had always been regular, a day off at most, and her period had been supposed to show up two days ago.

She began to panic.

_It's fine,_ she said mentally, _just go and have Christine check it out_._ It's fine_.

That meant braving sickbay, of course. Which made her panic more.

She made her way quickly, resisting the urge to ay a hand on her stomach. There was _no_ cluster of cells in there that were going to become a baby. _None_.

Her luck got worse when she reached sickbay, since the first person she ran into was the one she least wanted to see.

"Yeoman Matisse, what do you need?" McCoy asked, looking up from a PADD.

"Oh- I- um..." How did one say _I need to see any other person but you right now_?

He sighed in exasperation.

"I don't have all day."

Affronted, Clara straitened her back. There was gruff, and there was just plain rude.

"I have a _girl_ issue." she paused. He was giving her an _are you serious?_ look. "Is Nurse Chapel here?"

he nodded over to where the blonde was, just excusing a patient, and Clara hurried over to her.

"I have an issue." she said the minute she reached her.

"It must be serious if you're here- don't you hate this place?" Christine asked, but seeing her friend's expression, her own turned to worry. "Come with me."

They ended up in a curtained section of sickbay, and Chapel turned to her.

"What's happening?"

Christine Chapel was a bit older than Clara, and reminded her of an older sister; kind, sweet, but ready to get down to business when you needed her. She had a big heart, and wasn't afraid to stand up and defend the people she cared about. Clara kind of admired her for that.

Clara explained her fears as quickly as she could, leaving out the part of who the baby-daddy was. That as something she would only reveal if absolutely necessary. And if this was a false alarm- well, she doubted Christine would be as bad as Janice or the captain, but she _did_ have a tendency to say sarcastic things when least expected.

"Well, We have two options. I can give you two traditional tests for you to complete alone, or I can run a full test here, the problem with that one being I would have to have it approved by Doctor McCoy-"

"I'll take the traditional tests!"

Christine raised her eyebrows, but didn't respond otherwise. She simply nodded and then left for a moment to retrieve them.

"You know how to use them?"

Clara confirmed this with a nod.

"Right. If they both have _two_ bars, come see me, and we'll discuss your options, if not, I'll give you some more tests."

Once back in her room, Clara tried her hardest to delay and ignore the tests. She got caught up on the latest gossip from earth. She read up on the new filing system being introduced in four months to Starfleet. But she felt them, burning into her, like they had eyes.

Finally, she gave in, and took the first test.

The ten minutes it took were the longest in her life. She wanted to cry in fear.

_Two bars_.

It was a fluke, it had to be. There was no way. She was just so nervous her hormones were acting crazy. She took the second test, her hands shaking more and more.

It was a fluke. It had to be.

The second test was ready.

_Two bars_.

* * *

**Please review! Next chapter is when things get interesting!**

***I figure the future has some more birth-control methods, that are widely used.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek

**Notes:** Thank you all so much for the reviews, alerts, and favorites! I cherish each of them! This chapter is a little short, but it's very important to the story.

**Chapter Three**

Clara knew she should probably go to Christine first, before doing anything rash, but she found her legs carrying her to Doctor McCoy's rooms in the Senior Officer Quarters. In her hand were clutched the two tests; thankfully, it was Beta shift, so not many people were walking about the hallways; most officers were sleeping or off having fun; none were just hanging out in he halls. If they were, they surely would have commented about her shaking knees or the pallor of her face; she looked as ill as she felt.

She stood outside his door for a moment before she got the courage to press the small buzzer. The minute she heard the muffled chime from inside, her stomach twisted. She had to stop herself from turning on her heel and running away. She would have to face him eventually.

The shuffling of feet and grumbled curses preceded the doors opening. The doctor stood there, dressed casually and messily, looking like a grizzly bear who had been yanked out of hibernation. Before here had a chance to say anything (and he certainly _looked_ like he wanted to give her a piece of his mind, whatever his inner gentleman had to say about it), she held out the two tests to him.

"Here," was all she could say, as his eyes looked down to the two sticks. His expression froze.

"Two lines means..."

"Yeah." Clara couldn't meet his eyes. She wanted to melt into the floor.

He just turned a bit and gestured for her to come in, his eyes still trained on the positive tests.

His rooms were nice; there was a bed back in a curtained off area, and a sitting area and even a workspace. Not as expansive as the captain or first mates, but better than the cramped space she had to _share_.

"Have a seat," he said in a hollow voice. He didn't seem to have grasped it anymore than she did.

She sat primly on the couch, at the very edge. He sat heavily in a seat across from her, still looking blankly perplexed.

They sat like that for a while, the both of them unsure of what to say or do.

"It's yours, if you were wondering..."

He just nodded. Then he leaned forwards and rested his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

"Do you know what you're going to..."

"Keep it."

"Hm."

she waited for him to say something- _anything_. To tell her to buzz off and care for her own kid, to propose to her to preserve their family, to beg her to abort it- just some sign he had an _opinion _on the fact that they were having a child. Even if he demanded she leave, she'd at least know where he stood. But he just sat there, his face a clear slate, but the gears in his brain clearly working.

"If... if you don't want to raise the child, that's fine, I get it, I-"

"No." he looked up suddenly, as Clara was taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. "I want to be a part of the kid's life." he saw her shocked expression and looked down. "I was married before, alright? Wife got custody of our daughter in the divorce and barley lets me visit. That's not going to happen again."

Clara nodded.

"Okay, then we'll both raise the kid."

A thought occurred to her then.

"We might have to leave the ship, won't we? If we're having this child"

"Do you know the protocol?" he asked, "You're the Yeoman here."

She thought back to her Family Units in Starfleet course.

"If two crew-members conceive offspring, their station on the ship is up to the captains discretion."

"I can talk to Jim. He'll let us stay." he paused. "do you... I mean if you want to stay-"

"I do."

God. This shouldn't have to be this _hard_. Communicating with the father of your child wasn't meant to be so stiff and awkward and... _business-y_.

"You want to raise a kid in _space_ for the first five years of their life? Surrounded by death and danger and-"

"And some of the the brightest minds in the universe? Yes."

McCoy shook his head.

"Kids should be around other kids."

"He can have pen-pals. A lot of frontier kids do it."

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow, clearly skeptic.

"This ship is secure. It has plenty of people who would love the child. It provides work for both of the child's parents. It would provide a rich, learning environment."

"It's _space_."

"Do _you_ want to raise them on the surface?"

They sat in silence for a while. Clara felt awkward and stiff. Finally, Leonard (she felt it might be good to mentally call him that. Her son or daughter wouldn't want her parents to be so formal, surely) finally sighed.

"I'll talk to the captain."

* * *

**Sorry it was short, but it sets things up in terms of where they have to go relationship wise and sets the story up plot wise. It may not seem romantic now, but trust me, it's getting there.**

**In other news, I have a mental soundtrack to this fic, and I was thinking if anyone was interested, I could post a couple of songs I match with certain characters/scenes/couples at the chapter ends. Would anyone care about that or should it stay in my head?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek

**Notes:** Thanks for the reviews! Soundtrack updates will go at the end of each chapter. If you've alerted or favorite-d this fic, **please** review.

Also, I am aware I screwed up the pregnancy time-line a little, but let's just pretend I didn't...

**Chapter Four**

In the few weeks after her conversation with McCoy, life got very odd for Clara.

It started with the most awkward series conversations she had in her life. Both the captain and the first officer wanted to make sure that she had everything planned out. But while the captain had been surprisingly nice and supportive, Spock had managed to make her feel like any choice she made would be the wrong one. He never, however, encouraged her to change her mind. That conversation had been confusing and terrifying.

Janice and Christine and her other friends were all hesitantly supportive. Her friend Paul Vance was the worst, but even he eventually warmed up to the idea, saying at least the child would have good genetics. Chekov was, of the bridge crew, the kindest and friendliest, going out of his way to say a nice word when he heard the news. The rest of the bridge crew seemed to avoid the topic as much as possible, and looked a bit uncomfortable whenever it was brought up. Uhura, however, did make a point of asking how she was and shooting a dirty glare to a few girls who were whispering as Clara passed.

Her weirdest encounter had been with the ship's councilor, a Betazoid named Sarin Sharrah. With her perfect skin, giant eyes, and light, golden-brown hair, she looked like a fashion model and not a doctor, and acted like a sugarplum fairy, and Clara had not realized who she was even talking to until she had somehow been roped in for a session.

Thankfully, there was a OB/GYN aboard. Doctor Terrance was a kind old man who had pictures of his partner, children, and grandchildren plastered around his office. It was odd to have so many prying eyes, but he was really helpful, and it was thanks to him she didn't have to rely on nurses and Dr. McCoy.

She found herself making frequent bathroom trips, and her breasts were a bit tender, but she had yet to get any morning sickness, only faint nausea at the smell of coffee. That, of course, meant that she was pretty grumpy and had headaches in the morning, but she figured caffeine couldn't be good for her child anyhow.

She spent a lot of time planning. In a few months, she'd be able to tell the sex of the child and order proper supplies, and they wouldn't be so far out they couldn't get to them. She would also, after a while, have to move in to on of the rarely used suites; they were there in case the ship ever had to transport anyone important, but this far out in space, that was unlikely to happen. The downside to that was that the captain wanted Leonard to move in as well to _save space_, so they would be cohabitating. Personally, Clara thought the captain shouldn't spend so much time matchmaking.

As for child care, when the time came, many people volunteered to look after the child in their spare time, and a few people even offered to teach him or her. Sulu, in the one moment he acknowledged her pregnancy, offered to help with botany, and Uhura claimed she would help with languages when she had a spare moment, while Janice insisted she would teach the child math and English.

The captain said with a smirk that, as he was certainly going to be the godfather (Leonard rolled his eyes but did not deny this), took it upon himself to _show the kid how to achieve perfection._ Mister Spock, in an unnerving moment of something like kindness, told her not to worry and that he would ensure the child's safety in the event that the captain thought to attempt something unwise.

Her child would have an _interesting_ start to their life, if nothing else.

She had already contacted the pen-pal program, and had been introduced to several future mothers, most out in some part of the frontier where the closest children were already in double digits.

By far the hardest part of the passing weeks was dealing with her child's father. She just didn't know how to interact with him. She kept him updated on the slowly developing schedule for the kid's care, and all other things to do with their kid, but aside from that had no idea how to deal with him. He wasn't a very sensitive guy, or even the nicest one around. She could tell he wanted part in the child's life, but she had no idea how to gauge his feelings about _her_. She doubted he suddenly wanted to be best friends just because of the pregnancy, but surely he didn't want them to avoid each other. They were, after all, raising a child together in _space_.

Their interactions had been rather limited, though, and Clara knew that had to change soon. Her family, small as it was, had always been tight knit. She wanted her own child to grow up with just as close of a family, but at the moment didn't see how that was possible.

Thinking of her own family reminded her of her call to her parents. They had been disproving of it all, hoping she would come home and raise the child on earth with them there, and still hadn't accepted her decision. It hurt to know they disproved, but what could she do? She wasn't going to force Leonard off the ship with her, _or_ steal his child.

No, she was going to work _something_ out with him. Whatever that may be.

* * *

So another short chapter- next one will be longer, I promise. This one was just setting up some fun stuff.

This week, I'll give you the McCoy/Clara (McClara?) theme songs, since they have a pretty cute moment next chapter

*U + Me by Dan Black

*Hazy by Rosi Golan.


End file.
